I said the moon is so big. She said it's the sky that's small. And though she spent her day locked in the mall, she saved enough time to mock my satellite.
She said it gets too dark in this town at night. But it wasn't dark during the day. Not before she shopped it away.
Her pants-suit was on a clearance sale. It cost only a day. I've nothing more about that to say.
What does the moon see when it looks down on me? She said it's just a rock, but as it reflected the light that made her eyes sparkle, I knew there was something more.
Somewhere between the moment and the moon, we'd arrived at an impasse.
A few years ago, I went on a total of three dates with a spectacular woman, but it went nowhere because she had fear in her eyes. All I had to do was look at her and I could see it. We had so much in common, and so much chemistry, but it had no chance for even a beginning because she had hope for love but even stronger fear of loss.
"What if it all turns out to be for nothing? I've had my heart broken before."
Apparently, she'd forgotten that hope without effort is hopeless.
In contrast, I spent two years in a relationship with a woman with whom I had nothing in common, and yet, it was easy to be together. A little too easy in fact. All it took was effort.
Effort without hope can be dangerous.
Somewhere between the moment and the moon lies a new beginning.
Lay with me in a field of grass and you might end up with a wet ass, but as the sun goes, your worries can go with it. And your hopes can rise with the moon. All you have to do is let them.
What does the moon see when it looks down on me?
I've been told it's just a rock, but as it reflects the light that makes my eyes sparkle, I'll take a moment to notice something more.